


The Toughest Lizard On Earth

by ckret2



Series: Red Sprite & the Golden Ones (Rodorah slowburn oneshots) [16]
Category: Godzilla (2014), Godzilla - All Media Types, Godzilla: King of The Monsters (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Humor, Language Barrier, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: Ghidorah is taking a long, slow boat ride from Antarctica back to Isla de Mara, courtesy of a rather reluctant supercarrier. It is, they think, a fairly pleasant ride.Until Godzilla shows up.And Ghidorah doesn’t even know how to properly diss him.
Series: Red Sprite & the Golden Ones (Rodorah slowburn oneshots) [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476800
Comments: 11
Kudos: 131





	The Toughest Lizard On Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots—although this one is low on the Rodorah and mainly pure shenanigans. (Low enough on the Rodorah I'm not even tagging it, their interactions are basically pure gen.) If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is: Ghidorah’s wing is currently shredded, hence their inability to fly; Ghidorah does not speak any Earth languages but is slowly learning Rodan’s; and Rodan goes by Nido and doesn’t refer to anyone by their canon names because his species names people based on the volcano/island/geological feature they call home. Originally posted Sept 6.

They didn't like riding on a machine maker ship. It reminded them too much of things they'd tried to leave behind eons ago—of metal militaries and hangars and holding pens. Of being someone's tool.

At least they could comfort themselves with the knowledge that this world's machine makers saw them as an enemy rather than a weapon.

One bold little soldier had circled around in front of them to point some kind of gun at their faces. What a heavy weapon for such a little creature! The gun was longer than its leg. Third slowly licked the gun out of the soldier's hands, made direct eye contact with the soldier, and swallowed its weapon.

No one else pointed guns at them.

The ship was painfully slow. Slow enough that even the red sprite had grown tired of serving as their escort and explained that he was going to head north—they presumed to get away from the cold—over the horizon, but close enough that he'd be able to hear if they yelled for him. They didn't begrudge him for taking a break. At this rate, they suspected it would take them half a month to get home, maybe more.

Perhaps they should tell the machine makers to drop them off somewhere they could absorb enough energy to regrow their wing. They were getting hungry—had been hungry since repairing Third after his decapitation—but they were pretty sure they could still mend the tears without straining themselves too far. A volcano would do as an energy source. When the red sprite came back, they could ask him where the nearest volcano was. (They actually had enough words that they _could_ ask now. They were... proud of that. They were puzzled by being proud of that, when usually they were so proud of getting around from world to world without deigning to communicate with the natives—without deigning to get attached.)

For now, though, they'd content themselves with the ride.

It wasn't a bad ride, all things considered—aside from the uncomfortable sense of being in the hands of someone's military. Free drinks. They hadn't even realized they _could_ find oil on this planet, much less that the machine makers liked to conveniently can it and leave it sitting around where they could devour it. They'd have to be on the lookout for more cans in the future. They'd resisted the urge to clear the deck of them, but they were now just tipsy enough to actually relax.

Third had let his head roll sideways and was marveling at how that made the ocean look both horizontal and vertical when their fields of vision overlapped. Second had noodled his way across First's neck to plop his head on top of Third's, and was now determinedly ignoring Third flicking out his tongue to poke at the bottom of Second's chin. First had curled up against them both, shut his eyes, and was dozing, enjoying the hazy light faintly glowing on their scales after a whole night in a frozen wasteland. Half a month of this would probably be torture, but day one was alright.

Then the little king poked his head out of the water.

Second and Third stared at the dark grey blur in the middle of their overlapping views, befuddled. First opened his eyes, just made the view more confusing, and blinked slowly.

Third recognized him first and jerked up, causing Second to slide off and land snout first on the deck. Him! What was he doing here? What did he want? Had he heard about their injury? Did he think he could kill them while they were vulnerable. They'd see about _that_.

One of them tried to stand on their wings and feet. Another tried to raise their wings threateningly. The end result was that they got halfway to standing, lost their balance, crashed chest-and-necks first onto the deck, and ended up rolled sideways with one leg propping up their butt and the other leg twisted sideways under them. Oh, this was not intimidating. Maybe they were more tipsy than they'd thought.

The little king, eyes barely above the water line, stared at them.

They hissed and menacingly rattled the tail that hadn't gotten caught under them.

The little king growled so low, they could feel it vibrating the ship. Oh, they ought to zap him for that. He would deserve it.

What if they got into a real fight, though? The ship would immediately sink, and then they'd be in the water with him and unable to fly, and that would be that for _them_.

So, they glowered at him a moment longer—and then pointedly turned away, to study the horizon as though it was _far_ more interesting than anything _he_ could be doing. (Two of them did, anyway. Second was put on keep-glaring-at-him duty. Because one of them had to watch him in case he tried anything, and because Second had the best glare.) What did the little king matter to them, anyway? _They_ were on a _boat_ and he _wasn't_. They had _free drinks_. He _wished_ he was on a boat with free drinks. After all he did to help the itty bitty creatures of this world, and they didn't appreciate him at all, did they? No. They gave free rides to their near-conqueror instead. Look. Gaze upon their glorious ride and despair.

The little king continued to watch them with a complete lack of anything that even slightly resembled envy. Then he sank back down beneath the water.

They waited until they were absolutely sure he was gone.

Then they lifted their heads and shouted, "Hey! Nido!"

###

Nido didn't think the golden ones were in any real trouble. They hadn't sounded distressed. All the same, he took off from the beach he'd been exploring (it hadn't existed the last time he was awake!) and flew to their side as fast as possible.

Partially, he admitted, because he wanted them to see how fast he could cut across the surface of the sea.

When he reached the boat, the golden ones looked about the same as he'd left them. Still a little... drowsy, maybe? Slightly out of it. But not unwell, which was what mattered. Definitely not under attack by a sea serpent or anything, which was the important part. Trying to hover in place without blowing at the boat, he asked, "What?"

"What is bad name?"

Okay, no, Nido now had no idea what was going on. "What?"

The question didn't seem to please them. They huddled together, silently ruminating over how to clarify their meaning. "You fight... it," they said, with a vague gesture with their good wing to indicate "it." Some unspecified enemy, probably. "You not love it. _Not_ love."

"Hate," Nido supplied.

"You hate it. You... love it loses."

"You want it to lose?"

They gave him a skeptical look. "Yes?"

Nido clicked encouragingly, go on.

"You bad name it," the golden ones said. "What is bad name?"

Oh! Okay, a word for the kind of bad name you call someone you hate. "Insult," Nido said.

"Insult." They somehow turned the word into five syllables, _i-nn-sii-li-T_. It was kind of an amazing sound. " _Ihi_." And, apparently satisfied with their answer, they immediately switched topics. "Where is... near nest?"

"Why?" Nido asked, before remembering they hadn't covered that word.

They apparently guessed the meaning. "We want us... to... sit nest."

"Good!" Nido exclaimed. That was their most complex sentence to date. And of course they wanted a volcano—even without a proper layer of armor, they still had to find lava soothing when they were wounded, didn't they? Lava was inherently soothing.

Well, there was no place like home, and _certainly_ no place like a crater that one of his own kind had carefully shaped into a cozy nest; but in desperate times Nido figured any vent with a bit of magma would do. After all day out on a metal boat in the ocean, immediately following a night out in a blizzard—the golden ones had to be cold, damp, and sore. Nido wondered if their thin gold armor eroded like stone did.

"Yes. I fly. You follow." Nido darted north and waited, circling in the air until the golden ones had glared at the humans until they got with the program and turned to follow.

###

It took the agonizingly slow human boat over a day—but at last, they made it to the nearest volcano Nido knew of.

To humans, the island in question is called Bouvet Island. Bouvet Island has the distinction of being the single island farthest from any other piece of land on the planet.

It also has the distinction of having 93% of its surface area covered by a glacier, due to the fact that its volcano hasn't erupted in four thousand years.

The golden ones gave Nido a forlorn look.

Nido shifted uncomfortably on his icy perch. "It was supposed to be warmer."

###

The Badass Fish—as he tended to think of himself when he was around the three-headed space freak—The Badass Fish had been following the boat for the past day.

And he didn't like this.

He didn't like the sound of the space freak's beating heart so close to the sound of a thrumming human ship. He didn't like hearing Nido's cries so nearby. The humans couldn't be stupid enough to help the freak, could they?

The Badass Fish wasn't sure. Humans, he had found, were collectively a pretty stupid bunch of people. He didn't have proof, but he was pretty sure they'd brought the freak back to life in the first place. Who knew what else they might do?

So he followed.

The freak departed from the boat on a small island in the middle of nowhere, and the boat hastily chugged away. He also didn't like that. He could hear the slow, tired churning of magma deep beneath the island; he could hear the cracking and splitting of ice above. If the freak planned to dig out the volcano, then that made this lonely island a little too similar to the kind of place he'd been when he'd mind controlled the planet. Did the freak _need_ an island volcano to min control the planet? He didn't want to find out. But it was possible. 

And so, The Ass-Kickingest Fish Ever swam into shallow water, lifted his head just above the water line, and observed.

It took the freak a moment to notice him; he'd worked himself deep into a plateau of glacial ice, and was initially only visible as a moving golden glow from behind the ice. But one head popped out to scan its surroundings, caught sight of him, and then all three were focused on him.

The freak narrowed all six eyes at him.

The Meanest Bitch In Town narrowed his right back.

"You," the freak snarled venomously. He clambered out of the pit he'd dug in the ice, practically slithering down to reach the water line. The freak was favoring one wing. Was the other wounded? "Hey, _you_."

He jerked his head a bit higher out of the water. The freak could talk now? He'd never done that before. The Baddest Boy In The Seven Seas had tried _countless_ times to communicate with him—in every language he knew, in body language, in Mothra-assisted telepathy even—and now, suddenly, the space freak knew how to speak?

Maybe Mothra had been right, that there was a chance he could reform. If he was even learning to speak... "What?" he asked.

The freak stared blankly at him. "... _What?_ "

Oh. The freak could only speak volcano pter language. Figured. The Great And Terrible Gorilla-Whale switched dialects. "What is it?"

The freak drew himself as high as he could without switching to bipedalism and said to him, with equal measures of menace, derision, and hatred, " _Insult._ "

He stared at the space freak.

The space freak stared down at him, looking three shades of smug as hell.

The Reptilian Beast Feared By All In The Galaxy Who Value Their Continued Survival said, "You're an idiot."

"What?"

The Undisputed Master Of Both Land And Sea And Also Sometimes The Air When His Sister Is There snorted, turned around, and kicked back into deep water.

Nah.

This guy wasn't destroying the world today.

**Author's Note:**

> Original post available on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/187526508952/the-toughest-lizard-on-earth). Comments/reblogs there are very welcome (as are comments here)!


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